


Dr. Junkenstein

by TrulyGhoulish



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Frottage, Halloween, Junkenstein, Junkenstein AU, Junkers - Freeform, M/M, Mild Gore, dick rubbin yknow, nothing graphically detailed, porn in second chap, roadrat - Freeform, severed limbs, thank u mather blizzard for my life and for this boyfriends au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyGhoulish/pseuds/TrulyGhoulish
Summary: Jamison Junkenstein has been trying fruitlessly to spark life in his creature, seeking revenge on those who would mock him. Then he's presented with the key to life, but is he ready for what it means to bring his creation to life?
(Based on the Junkenstein comic that was just leaked!)





	1. The Good Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the comic for context https://imgur.com/gallery/raSuK
> 
> This will become graphic/mature just not sure when, though knowing me prob in the next installment.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also pls follow me on twitter n tell me if u like the fic or what else u wanna see I wanna talk junkers!!!!  
> @TrueGhoul or nsfw/ow twit @TrulyGhoulish

Jamison paced across the floor of his office, the rhythm of his steps letting him focus tightly on the choice he had made. His office was dimly lit by a few glowing bottles and bare bulbs but right now it had a mostly green aura. The large crystal that sat on his desk buzzed with energy and light and Jamison could hardly look at it. Not that it was too bright really, but he had begun to question the decision to take it from the witch. He’d been so sure in the moment, but the second she and her lackey had left he felt torn. He paced in front of his desk, furtively glancing from the crystal sitting atop his sketches and schemes to a form covered in a white sheet on a slab in his laboratory. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

The tapping of his feet stilled and he stood in the doorway, staring at this creature. His creation. The amalgam of parts he’d so critically chosen and dedicated his life to. He felt like a failure for not being able to give him life and now with the missing piece in his grasp he still felt a failure. He’d just wanted to be able to do it himself! Jamison thumped the side of his head and grunted, high pitched in frustration. He jumped back to motion, walking with sudden purpose toward his creation. Jamison had never been taken seriously, no matter how much work he put in. No one could see past the exterior; the way he talked or walked or … the list went on. He gripped the metal edge of the table, squeezing it as he thought of the way the Lord of the town had laughed at him when he’d proclaimed he’d create real, thinking life. Jamison let out a sharp laugh in the silence of his lab, turning and looking at the crystal with hunger in his eyes. “I’ll show ‘em,” he snapped, rushing back to the glowing stone.

Jamison pushed his hair out of his face and picked up the green stone, admiring it as if for the first time. For now he realized what it meant. Even if he had to sacrifice everything, all he wanted was to bring his perfect creature to life. To prove everyone wrong. To have someone on his side. Jamison shivered with glee, giggling to himself as he took the crystal carefully into the work room. He wasn’t his usual haphazard self this time, he doubted witches gave second chances if you broke a resurrection crystal. Or whatever the hell this was. Jamison was careful as he stepped up on a stool next to the metal table and placed the crystal in the device he’d created to spark life. As a man of science he did wonder what properties made up the stone, but this wasn’t a time for questions anymore. He needed to commit before he was pacing his study for another few hours weighing things over and over.

Jamison stepped down from the stool and stood next to his creature. He stared at the shape of him through the sheet and felt a tingle of excitement. It was almost too much to reach down with thin fingers and pull back the sheet. A joyful laugh escaped him as he saw that face he’d crafted, the neck, the shoulders, the arms … Jamison laughed ecstatically, face turned up to the ceiling. It was really about to come true (as long as that witch was just evil and not a liar) and Jamison felt the surge of adrenaline like he had before his other attempts. But this was punctuated by something new, an unfamiliar doubt. Usually Jamison doubted that his attempt would work, but now, feeling assured it would work, he felt doubt that his monster would be like he wanted. 

It was one thing to create the physical body, to tailor that to your specifics. It was pretty easy to do that. But why did the doctor want this creature to live? Sure yes he wanted revenge and he wanted prestige and he wanted to know it could be done. But so many years alone, constantly being ridiculed for the good work you do, it takes a toll. There’s something hollow about the companionship of a robot you’ve programmed yourself, so even among the automatons he’d made, Jamison felt alone. But now he looked down at the face of the man he’d made for himself. It was the truth, that he’d made the monster for himself, to feel less alone and to have someone real to believe in him. Jamison’s hands trembled as he touched the creature’s shoulder and he felt the doubt creeping in. “What if y’don’t like me…” he muttered bitterly to himself. He shouldn’t need his creation to like him, he was a scientist after all. “Christ,” he hissed between his teeth, throwing the sheet over the creature and stepping away from the machine. 

Jamison began to walk to his study, kicking at scrap as he walked by he was so angry with himself. It seemed so logical to do it, to bring the creature to life, it would be only a flip of a switch and now here he was debating it again. Jamison rubbed his temples and growled as he kicked another piece of junk across the room. It clattered against an automaton who let out a whir and a beep as it’s last bits of electricity faded for good. Jamison remembered that one, he’d built it to help the Lord in hopes of an alliance. A highly intelligent operation system that the Lord had called a silly trinket. Jamison surged with rage. All the Lord ever did was turn him away or mistreat and condescend his inventions. This was what it was all about. To hell with his own feelings or misgivings, he could convince himself that it wouldn’t matter if he was still alone as long as the creation did what it was meant to. To teach that horrible man no one underestimates Junkenstein. 

With a new sense of purpose Jamison strode across the room and pulled the sheet off of his monster. He looked at the crystal and considered muttering a prayer for luck. He laughed instead, wondering where that impulse had been hiding, then stumbled through some junk and robot parts to the panel on the wall. His breathing picked up as he put his hand on the lever. He inhaled fast and shallow, he counted breaths. One in, two out, three in, PULL.

The room lit up with green energy, something like lightning trying to spill from the crystal was funneled through his device and into his monster. It seemed like an agonizingly long time that he stood there, though it was no longer than it had been calculated to be, until he finally flipped the lever back and the room was quiet again. He was used to it, half deafened anyway so the sizzling air of the lab didn’t bother him. Jamison’s hair was on end as he quickly scurried over to the table. But there was only stillness.

“No!” he cried out, anguish tearing at his throat. “No! No!” he barked, pushing at the big man in frustration. It was supposed to work, “She promised!” he yelled, looking angrily around the room to put the blame somewhere. But once more, the failure set in, this time heavier than ever. Jamison let his head fall against the broad chest of his monster, tears threatening to spill as he snarled and tore at his hair. It was always like this, but this time he’d really and truly expected it to work. “I’m going to ki-” his words were knocked out of his mouth before he finished. The chest he was leaning on moved, and a rumble of a roar grew from within his monster. All in a flash he was thrown across the room and the doctor stared in disbelief as his creation sat up. 

“Well fuck me,” he meant to yell but it only came out in a whisper. He was telling himself to stand up but his legs wouldn’t move. His breath hardly came to him either, being thrown across a room was no fun. Jamison leaned against a bookshelf and watched with jaw slightly agape as his large creation swung his legs off the side of the table and stood up. He could hear his heavy breathing all the way across the lab but it meant he was alive. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered to himself. All he could do was watch as the large man, held together with stitching in an almost fragile way, actually moved. He was walking. He was coming this way. Lumbering cautiously on new muscles as he directed himself toward Jamison. 

The doctor’s legs finally responded and he was able to pull himself up to a stand against the bookshelf. But by now the creature had closed in on him, he was only a few feet away and Jamison felt his adrenaline picking up. “Hiya,” he offered, but his voice wavered. The creature grunted and stepped up to him. With no hesitation a huge hand closed around Jamison’s throat before he even realized what was happening. He was lifted with great ease off the floor and he struggled against the grip. Hands scrabbling to pull apart vice grip fingers or at least keep himself up to stop from being suffocated.

“Who ...” growled a voice that sent both a shiver of fear and excitement through the doctor. He was actually hearing his creatures voice for the first time and it could only have been better if he wasn’t being choked. 

“D … Doctor … Ja-jamison .. Ju ..” he coughed, struggling for air and words. His creature, to his credit, seemed to understand the correlation between his grip and the doctor’s struggling and set him back on his feet. “Thanks,” he rasped, smoothing down his hair again. “I’m Dr. Jamison Junkenstein,” he said more cheerily than someone who had just been choked should have. The creature snorted a bit. 

“Who … am I?” he asked, Jamison realizing now that might have been the primary question. 

“Oh, er …” He hadn’t thought of a name. Surprising for the amount of time he spent obsessing over him. It had just never seemed real enough for Jamison to get that attached. “Uh, yer … Roadie,” he said as he hastily eyed his creation up and down and recalled he’d found most of his favorite parts (the arms, the jaw, the left calf) on the side of the road ergo … Roadie. The creature seemed to contemplate that, a long pause passing as he mulled it over. Then he seemed to shrug, shifting his weight a bit. 

“Okay,” he grunted before turning away from Jamison. He walked across the room, leaving the good doctor stunned in place. Jamison didn’t know what to do with himself, he could barely process it. He merely watched as Roadie took up a sharp hook that hung on a long chain Jamison used to hang robot parts on for assembly. What was that for?

“Oy, what’re you doing?” he finally said, rushing forward a bit as he saw Roadie making for the door. The large man turned toward him slowly, looking at Jamison almost like he’d forgotten he was there. He appeared to think about the question for a bit, then tapped his temple with the blunt curve of the hook and said,

“What ya told me to do.”

Jamison blinked, confused as his monster pulled the door off the hinges as he left. Had all those nights he spent, alone and crying in his lab, whispering to his lifeless creation how he would have him destroy everyone who had wronged Junkenstein, had that somehow gotten through to Roadie? Jamison gaped as his creature walked tall across the grounds of his home, toward the warm glow of the lights in the village. It was all he could do to get himself to snap out of it and call after Roadie before he was out of earshot. 

“Just … Just please come back?” he yelped, staring helplessly as his creation then disappeared over the crest of a hill. But he would swear to hell and back he heard that deep rumble of a voice say something before he vanished. Jamison repeated over and over in his head how Roadie had said ‘okay’ and once more felt like praying. Praying that he had heard something, and that something had been ‘okay.’


	2. The Vengeful Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadie returns with only "minor" injuries.

At first, Jamison waited by the door. He made himself busy by resoldering the hinges and screwing them back into place as best he could on the somewhat splintered doorframe. But that didn’t take much time and he already wanted Roadie to return, to explain what he was going off to do. Though of course Junkenstein knew. And if he didn’t know right away, it was clear what was happening as he began to hear far off screams from the village. A surge of excitement leapt through him and he finally tore himself away from the door. Jamison clambered up the steps of his lab to a door that led into the homier part of his place. But it was still littered with schematics and robot limbs as well as early prototypes of his own limbs displayed almost like trophies around a cluttered dining space. He rushed up another, longer, flight of stairs and felt winded as he swung open the door to his rooftop. Cool night air hit him in the face and he babbled with laughter in anticipation as he now slowly approached the edge of the roof. Looking out across the fields and hills he could just see the tops of the houses in the village as smoke was beginning to rise from them.

It was magnificent even from afar. He could make out the faint yelling and crashing as his monster ravaged the city. Jamison might have once, long ago, felt remorse at this but there is really only so much ridicule one person can put up with. It would ruin the Lord to see his people suffer and to know it was Jamison’s doing. And he would certainly know, with how Junkenstein had begged him for years for the resources to make a human life only to be called insane, that it was Junkenstein’s revenge. And Jamison wasn’t crazy, or if he was he didn’t notice much, not since he was so assured of his scientific prowess. He could create an automaton for any task at the drop of a hat, he designed his own prosthetics, and to top it off he’d reanimated his perfect specimen. Jamison cackled to himself, so pleased things were finally working out his way. Now if only Roadie would hurry up and get on with the vengeance so he could come home. God, Jamison hoped he would come home.

Junkenstein watched from his roof for hours, but even when he was growing tired of it his creature hadn’t yet stopped. Jamison could track his movement by the sound of breaking brick or a pained howl from someone getting that hook into their spine (now he understood why he’d taken it). For a while each yell sent a thrill through to Jamison’s very core. He would grasp the edge of the short stone wall that encircled the roof and practically click his heels in glee. He would have kept watching but the longer he waited the more he wished he’d gone with or that he knew for sure Roadie would return like he promised. It made him too anxious to know his creation was out there, finally fulfilling his purpose, but that with a will of his own, Roadie could make any choice he wanted. The longer it took him the more and more sure Jamison became that he wouldn’t return. Not when Roadie knew he was so powerful. Jamison grumbled to himself and slammed his metallic fist on the brick in frustration. “Shoulda put a collar n tag on the big fella,” he said angrily, then paused, then broke out in laughter at the stupid thought. He had to put his mind to something else. 

\--

Jamison was back in his lab, sitting in his office and writing notes furiously while he read a heavy text. He would pause and draw something or pause to mess with the cogs and wires in the back of an automaton’s chassis that was on a chair next to him. He worked frantically, just how he liked it when he needed a distraction. Just pile on the tasks and he could lose himself to it. He had pushed his goggles up onto his head in favor of thin, round wire glasses so he could actually make out what he was scrawling in his notes. He was so deep into his work he didn’t hear the bang of the door as it opened, thankfully not off its hinges this time. But he did hear the clang of metal as Roadie dropped his hook onto a metal work table. 

“You came back!” he yelped at once, before he’d even seen it was Roadie. But who else would it be. Jamison left his work, the robot carcass falling off the chair as he pushed past it. He nearly jumped all the way out of his office he was so thrilled. “I want to hear all about it,” he said with a happy giggle as he left the doorway to finally see Roadie. Jamison stopped cold, surprised by what he saw. His creation was leaning with his right palm pressed on a table, panting heavily. The hook was bloody, almost no silver shone through drying blood, and next to it sat two severed body parts. One was Roadie’s own left arm, fallen off at the seam just below his shoulder. The other was the severed head of the Lord, with crown still atop his white hair. Roadie stared at Jamison with his big black eyes and Jamison stared at his creature covered in blood and singed clothes. It was a long pause as Jamison processed it all.

“You did that for me?” he eventually squeaked, incredulous that someone could care enough to sever the head of his enemy and bring it home like it was a trophy.

“Yep,” was all Roadie offered in reply, shrugging a bit as he looked at the severed head then back at Junkenstein. Jamison felt alive with emotion and he suddenly ran over and barreled into his creature’s chest, clearly nonplussed that he was getting covered in blood as he did so. Jamison pushed his face against the sturdy but soft muscle of Roadie’s chest and kept himself buried there to hide the fact that he was suddenly crying. 

“’M so happy,” he mumbled against Roadie, giggling a little as his excitement boiled over. “You truly did it just for me?” Jamison asked, lifting his head finally and wiping at his running nose. Roadie nodded and grunted in affirmation, lifting his remaining hand to smear away the blood on Jamison’s face with his thumb.

“Plus … it was fun,” he said with a dry sound that might have been a laugh. Jamison cackled at that, his arms squeezing tighter around the monster for a moment but then he seemed to regret how free he’d been with his emotion. He wiped under his glasses and pulled away from Roadie, looking him up and down and then stepping over to examine his arm. 

“I gotta fix ya, c’mere,” he commanded, trying to sound a bit more composed. He was a man of science after all, the man in charge, the genius who had granted his creature life. (He chose now to ignore the fact that the witch had been the one to actually give him the key to life and focus instead on how he’d engineered the body.) He had to seem … less weepy. He barely knew his own monster; he had this feeling like he couldn’t be the one to be so sappy. He wanted to take care of Roadie, like he’d taken care of Jamison’s problems.

“Sit here,” he said after he’d led Roadie by the hand (well, Jamison holding one of the creature’s large fingers) to the table he’d been born on. Roadie hoisted himself up onto the slab as Jamison hurried over and got Roadie’s arm. He held it with both arms, cradling it and straining a little under the weight. But he’d lugged these pieces around before and he wasn’t a weakling by any means. Jamison set it on the table next to Roadie and gave him a motion to stay put while he went to find the sutures. 

Junkenstein returned shortly and reached up to touch his creation’s arm and realized like this he was too short. He huffed a bit and thought. It would be too unstable for him to stand on a step stool. “I changed my mind, sit on the floor please,” he said with a smile. There was no resistance from Roadie, he simply scooted off and plopped on the floor with a thud that rattled the book shelves. Jamison tittered at that and set down his sewing materials on Roadie’s right thigh. Then he retrieved the arm and set it on the floor next to its owner. Finally, Jamison sat down too, straddling Roadie’s left leg. 

“Much better,” he murmured as he started to push back the bloodied sleeve of Roadie’s jacket so he could see what needed to be worked on. “Seems simple enough, no tissue tearing, musta just came undone,” he rambled as he examined the wound. Roadie just nodded, which was okay with Jamison. He didn’t need to talk, Jamison felt like he talked plenty for the both. “So I’ll just stitch it back on,” he said with glee as he lifted up the severed arm. He put it in place, just lining it up right, then looked at Roadie. “Can ya hold it up? Can’t very well sew and hold this big thing, can I?” he asked with a grin. The creation grunted in acknowledgement and reached in front of himself, around Jamison’s back, to hold the arm in place. This pulled Jamison closer, his knee just shy of pressing against Roadie’s crotch. The doctor felt his temperature rise and he hoped the blush didn’t show on his cheeks. But to himself he relished the closeness and the secure feeling of his monster’s thick arm against his back. 

“Good, just hold ‘er steady then,” he said, trying again to keep composure and be the responsible creator. He picked up his sutures and needle and set to work. “If it hurts uh, let me know,” he said mildly, pretty sure it wouldn’t hurt Roadie much but still. He leaned his elbows against Roadie’s broad chest, trying not to prod him too much, and started sewing. They were both quiet now, Jamison focusing and Roadie just breathing heavily as usual. Junkenstein’s metal leg was the only noise as he shifted on each new suture to get a better view or a better position. He fidgeted his legs forward as he began to sew around to the back of the arm. He was pressed up against Roadie now, focused on his task. His knee pressed between Roadie’s legs particularly hard as he adjusted for a better vantage and he paused as he heard Roadie grunt. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” he said absently, focusing still on making sure the stitches were strong and secure. But he dropped the needle when all of a sudden Roadie’s half stitched arm twitched to life and grabbed him. “What the?” he grunted as Roadie held him in place.

“Quit squirmin’” came the gruff voice. Jamison looked at Roadie, confused. 

“Did I hurt ya?” he asked with true concern. Jamison didn’t know what he did wrong. Roadie shook his head and grunted no. 

“Just stop moving so much,” he said, almost quietly, like he didn’t want to explain. Jamison gave him a wary look but nodded.

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged, picking up a new needle and thread from the kit. Roadie sighed a bit and let go of Jamison. The doctor reached up again to resume, but it was too far. He had to scoot forward. He gave Roadie a quick glance, hoping he wouldn’t get grabbed again if he just moved a little. So he shifted forward and all at once understood why Roadie had wanted him to stop fidgeting. His monster’s monster dick was hard as a rock in his pants. Jamison flushed, how could he not have noticed? He’d been that focused he didn’t feel it? He’d designed the damn thing how did he not feel it?

“Oh, I get it now,” he said with a bit of a smirk. Roadie huffed but didn’t speak. Jamison chewed his own lower lip as he continued stitching, keeping his thigh pressed against the bulge straining in Roadie’s pants but not shifting so much. At least not at first. But then he felt adventurous. He fidgeted, rubbing his knee and thigh against the hard-on and hearing Roadie’s breathing pick up a little. He kept sewing but it was getting a bit sloppy now. He felt that warm stirring in his lower abdomen as he was pressed against the sturdy body of his creation. He moved again, this time more obviously rubbing against him and not just moving. This had been, after all, Jamison’s plan in a sense. Why else would you craft your perfect man and spend so long trying to animate him? Junkenstein was lonely in more than the poetic sense. 

“I told you to stop moving,” Roadie said, breaking the silence finally. He held Jamison at one of his hips but didn’t pull him away. Junkenstein finished up his stitch and then looked at Roadie, smirking.

“Well I finished so I’ll just leave ya alone then,” he said with a snarky tone to his voice. Roadie growled a bit and let go of his resewn arm to put his hand on Jamison’s leg, moving it himself so he rubbed against Roadie’s cock.

“Yer not done yet, Jamison,” he grumbled, making the doctor’s skin prickle. Hearing his name from those lips sent blood rushing to his dick and he shifted his hips just a bit to let Roadie know. The man grunted in response. Jamison was again quiet, feeling at a loss for words which didn’t happen often. He just placed excited hands on Roadie’s belt and unbuckled it, peeling it back so he could unfasten the pants. He’d seen it all when he was creating Roadie but it was unlike anything he’d seen before now that he was alive. Jamison giggled with excitement as he dipped his flesh hand into Roadie’s pants and laid claim to his prize. He’d built him big since the rest of him was big, couldn’t have him being disproportionate. Jamison pulled out Roadie’s cock and admired it, his own arousal throbbing in his pants just looking at it.

“You too,” Roadie said, voice hoarse but softer than before. The man shifted Jamison back a little and looked at his crotch expectantly. Jamison felt a blush color his cheeks as he lifted the smock he wore and pushed down the tight pants. He didn’t want to be tender about it, he already had so many feelings rushing through him he couldn’t handle being coy right now. He gasped when Roadie picked him up a bit and after Roadie closed his legs he settled Jamison on his knees on top of Roadie’s thighs. They lined up perfectly this way and Roadie elicited another gasp as he pulled Jamison toward him and their cocks touched.

Roadie was warm and soft and just so full of life now it was still hard for Jamison to believe. But he’d never felt closer to someone before, not even just physically. This was someone who he’d meticulously put together, had practically pined after as he tried and failed to resurrect him. To think they could be together, like this, filled Jamison with such joy all he could do was grin and occasionally laugh. He placed his palms on Roadie’s chest as he moved closer, their dicks pressed between them. He groaned a bit when Roadie shifted his hips and moved against Jamison. 

“Fuck, feels good,” he laughed, getting a nod from Roadie. Jamison let his non-metal hand slide down the strong torso in front of him and he placed his palm over the head of Roadie’s cock. He smeared the slick of his pre-cum down his length, feeling it mix with his own as Jamison bucked his hips slowly against Roadie. He let out a moan as he moved, hips starting to work a bit faster.

“Both hands,” the creation prompted, but Jamison was hesitant. 

“It’s a bit cold though,” he said, looking at his metal hand and flexing the fingers. But Roadie just shrugged.

“I want it,” he grunted. That was enough for Jamison. More than enough. He felt a surge of excitement, the feeling of being wanted. He placed both hands around Roadie’s cock and just barely encircled it. He continued to rock his hips forward, now in time with the stroking of his hands. Roadie’s breathing became low grunting, then louder groaning to match Jamison’s moaning. The pace was steady though Roadie adjusted it now and then by moving Jamison’s hips faster or slower to show Jamison what he wanted. Junkenstein liked it, he wanted to know he was pleasing Roadie. 

The room quickly became filled with the sounds of groaning and moaning, Jamison certainly not holding back. He rocked his hips quite fast now, the both of them weren’t very much concerned with making it a long ordeal right now. Roadie’s hips moved a bit too and his grunts and groans were punctuated with a gruff moan here and there. 

“Oh ffffuck I’m gonna,” Jamison hissed. Roadie, whose hands hand migrated down to cup Junkenstein’s ass, gave him a squeeze which Jamison took as approval. He thrust frantically then with a loud groan and an arch of his back he came, spilling hot and wet all over them both. Roadie wasn’t far behind, Jamison keeping up his strokes until he released. The force of it was surprising and Jamison got a face full of cum since he’d been hungrily staring down at his monster’s cock. He sputtered but also laughed, looking at Roadie and detecting perhaps remorse and apology on the creature’s face. 

“I’m fine,” he said with a smile, licking his lips clean and wiping his face with his palm only to lick that up too. That seemed to interest Roadie who grunted and grabbed Jamison’s chin between two fingers. To Jamison’s surprise the man pulled him forward and kissed him, licking his chin clean after. Jamison giggled happily and grabbed the one side of Roadie’s jacket that was still on and clung tightly to him. He kissed him again, Junkenstein’s rather thin lips doing their best against Roadie’s softer and larger ones. But the creature seemed happy as he held Jamison close and they kissed.

“That was nice,” Jamison sighed, finally leaning back.

“Yeah,” Roadie said with as much sincerity as can be conveyed with a single syllable. Jamison just laughed.

“Not a man of many words, eh? That’s fine. Didn’t design that but it’s fine, I like it,” he rambled, nodding and pressing his palms flat against Roadie’s chest. He recognized now how bloody and dirty Roadie was, and how dirty he himself had gotten. Jamison didn’t mind dirty but I didn’t mesh well with a lot of the work he did. Couldn’t have dust getting into the inner workings of machines. And though he was often cluttered it was always dusted and sanitized, so was the life of a scientist and doctor. But blood and grime all over his creation was too much for him.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” he said, moving to get off of Roadie but finding his legs a little too weak from kneeling too long. Not to mention the great orgasm he’d just had. Without missing a beat Roadie scooped Jamison into his arms and stood up with seeming ease. 

“Point the way,” Roadie said, a faint smile on that beautiful, monstrous mouth as he looked at Jamison. Junkenstein laughed warmly and leaned his head on Roadie’s chest.

“Up those stairs,” he said, gesturing. “Tonight’s great, Roadie, y’know. Best night of my fuckin’ life,” he said, mumbling happily as they walked on.

“Yeah, me too,” Roadie grunted. Jamison couldn’t wipe the damn grin off his face through the whole night. His dreams were finally real and he couldn’t’ stop grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this and know that there will be more porn to come if this didn't entirely sate you c;
> 
> Also if anyone wants to weigh in on if using the name Roadie is too cute/weird? Like I keep wanting to type "Hog" as an alternate nickname but like he's not really Roadhog in this au? idfk its not too bad for me but if Roadie is annoying for you let me know what you think i guess lmao
> 
> also pls follow my nsfw/fic/ow twitter @trulyghoulish n talk to me!


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